I’m reading on the beach when the day
campers arrive, heralded by a boy shouting
the lady with the braces has syphilis!
Ontarian wildfire smoke blew
south overnight and the hills ringing
the shoreline pop green once again.
Cannonballs launch themselves
from the docks. The grass is dappled
with soapwort and black medic, plantain
where feet trample year after year racing
to the water. Another kid starts to say shit
before turning it into what do you know.